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Watch Your Back Mr Weyr
---- "Main Cabin" :The main cabin is finely sculpted from reinforced plastics and trimmed with insets of ebony and mohagany. Twenty four coach passengers, twelve portside and twelve starboard, can be comfortably berthed in each tall leather padded seat, each placement outfitted with a minimonitor, commlink and dataport. At the bow, near the forward corridor, is a tall storage locker and emergency aid station. The central aisle leads aft, where a service niche houses a small galley and wet bar. Opposite the galley is the executive transport's hygiene unit. Light sifts down from linear fixtures hidden above the overhead cabinets and each seat has a private reading light. :A hatchway leads forward, while beyond the service niche is a second hatch leading further aft. ---- There's a bit of a shuffling noise coming from the crew area of the Main Cabin. Standing above one of the bunks Larin is shuffling through a duffel. He might look a little intimidating as he strips off his sports jacket to reveal the FLAK jacket he's wielding underneath. In the same motion he liberates his DS pistol from its holster, preps it and checks its charge. The whole while he's whistling a little song of some sort. Ruin comes in from the airlock, freezing at the sight of a stranger in the cabin. "You are either a very good thief," he says flatly, "or you are a Watcher. Either way, please get out of my things and off my bunk. I prefer to be introduced to someone before I share my bed with them." Larin tightens his grip on his pistol noticeably for only a minute until the word Watcher comes up. Wordlessly he grabs his duffel and slings it to the next bed over, whilst reholstering the gun into a convienent spot on his jacket. He turns around to expose his front (it's quite obvious that his face is rather bruised and cut), his hand reaching up to lower the brim of his glasses slightly to get a good look at the man. "I'm not the subtle type. I'd make a bad thief I'm afraid," Larin returns in a relaxed voice, as if it were apparently a very natural thing for disembodied voices to assail him from behind. Ruin doesn't miss the release of the gun. He himself is unarmed, and a bit battered, as he comes fully into the cabin's lights. He doesn't appear to be terribly trusting. "...Who are you, and why are you here?" he asks with a distant sort of curiosity that doesn't match the flat hardness in his face. "Well that's a good question now isn't it? My dad met my mom a while ago on Luna ... and then they liked each other well enough that they apparently did some sort of thing to make a stork come along... and then after a few years of working law and fighting fleeters ... I ran into a certain terrorist," Larin remarks, his typical smirk coming to his lips. "Where was I before this? Well ... I had a falling out with certain business associates." Well, a new figure enters the main cabin, flechette pistol in hand and a rather unpleasant expression on his face. A ghost perhaps? Nah, it's only Brandon wielding a lofty wrench that he swings towards the back of Larin's head after he's snuck up on him. "Now is not a good time to be vague," says Ruin, moving toward one of the lockers. "And I've already had a concussion this week." McDowell looks down to the figure on the decking, and then across to Ruin. It wasn't the best hit, but it worked. His eyes flicker across to Ruin. "Should be some cuffs in that locker," he tells the Lunite Engineer. "Grab them out, and we'll have a little talk to our guest here... When he wakes up." Ruin obeys, rummaging through the locker's weapons to retrieve the cuffs. "I went out to see Timonae for a while," he said. "After Solace and I delivered what we came to deliver. I came back to find him here." He hands the cuffs over. "Good thing you woke up. I doubt I could take him - I'd left my stun gun here in case the things are illegal on this world." "Civilian weapons are legal here," Brandon informs Ruin, as he takes the cuffs and kneels down. One of the fixed chairs make a good place to secure the cuffs, as he kicks them outta the way. He slowly stands up, and then looks down to Larin. "I think I should know him from somewhere... But I suppose we should keep him under lock and key until we're back on New Luna, then let Jeff decide what should be done with him." Now that he's unconscious and safely secured, Ruin looks the man over. "He implied he was a Watcher," he says quietly. "And I suppose he may be. Or he's able to pick the security codes on the airlock." He looks at Brandon with a measuring sort of look. "When are we next on New Luna? Solace said something about Odari being the next stop." "Odari today," Brandon replies, as he kicks the pistol away from Larin. "Then we're back to New Luna tomorrow." He kneels down beside the prone form, checking for a pulse and the such. "If he was a Watcher, then I think that he would have contacted me before turning up... Most likely a bloody Earther or something." Ruin goes to retrieve the pistol, and heads for Larin's duffel. "I don't suppose Watchers have any kind of identifying papers," he muses. "That would sort of defeat the point...though we seem to have uniforms, so maybe we do?" He tilts his head at Brandon. "Not a lot I've seen so far speaks of huge amounts of common sense." "And that comes from a man who thought that those tax collectors on Teekay were doing a legal job," Brandon mutters, as he looks across to Ruin. "The universe isn't a friendly place... And I'm really sorry that you're finding out the hard way. Sometimes you can talk your way out.... Other times, how would Urf say it?" There comes a pause. "hrunth" Ruin sighs. "Think what you will of me," he says in a 'there's no talking to you' tone, shaking his head. "You will anyway. Odari today, you say? When?" "Do you have the first concept of team work?" Brandon asks, as he delivers his trademark flat look, towards Ruin. "Have you ever served on a ship's crew? Crews are close... You think you can do a better job, pipe up and tell me, understand? This isn't the Militia, and I want feedback, understand?" Ruin gives Brandon a very long, studying, level look. "Yes. No. No. Yes," he says quietly, answering each question in turn. "I am not piping up because I cannot do your job and we are both abundantly aware of that fact. Therefore I do what I'm told, insofar as I am told to do anything." "Sorry about yesterday," Brandon says, as he heads towards the hatch. "Should have engaged from a closer distance." He nudges Larin with the toe of his boot, and then heads towards the fore hatch. "You're playing baby sitter, let me know if he tries anything stupid." "I said that I would go," says Ruin, taking a seat on his bunk with Larin's pistol in his hands. "If you're going to go on about teamwork, I should have stayed on the ship. I knew I'd be a liability in any fight, and that fights are normal on Tomin Kara. Don't take responsibility for my choices." "You're not a liability," Brandon says, as he looks back towards Ruin. "If you were a liability, you wouldn't be sitting there, yes?" He slowly shakes his head, and then departs. "Gonna move to Ordari... Let me know if something comes up." McDowell punches in a keypad code and exits forward. ---- IND Saviour's Haste Intercom Broadcast ---------------------- McDowell -- ---- From the Cockpit : We're currently on Odari... We hope you've had a nice trip, and hopefully haven't died back there. Ruin activates the ship's intercom and sends, "Smooth as silk and out like a light. Doesn't seem to be dead though." ---- IND Saviour's Haste Intercom Broadcast ---------------------- McDowell -- ---- From the Cockpit : Good, we'll hand him over to the NLM when we arrive back in port tomorrow. Ruin activates the ship's intercom and sends, "I'll see to it he doesn't get loose if you want to take care of business while he sleeps." ***Some time later*** GRRROOOAN, Larin looks up from his position on the chair. "The fuck?", Larin grumbles to himself, as his arm fails to come up to his head in an effort to rub the growing lump on his head. "One of those fucking pink fru fru drinks I bet." He blinks his eyes open as the world returns in a sort of swimming motion. When he finally realizes his situation he looks down to see his situation. "This some kind of Timonae sex game or something? I'm not really into the whole ropes and chains thing." Ruin is seated on his bunk, turning Larin's pistol around and around in his hands. "Not really," he says. "But if you're going to come onto a ship uninvited, and then be cryptic and vague about what you're doing there, you really must expect such things." Larin chuckles lightly and winces as his head gives him proper pay back for it. "Ryan doesn't own the ship anymore? Well then whoever the current captain is had better get his head out of his ass and change the boarding lock password." Larin frowns lightly, rolling his neck a bit. "So whose uhm ... custody am I under at the moment?" "I believe he does still own the ship," says Ruin mildly. He doesn't seem inclined to let anyone go; his fingers just turn the pistol over and over in his hands. His tone is soft, light, and a little distant. "And as to custody...the captain's, I would assume - for now, at any rate. It didn't seem to matter to you when you boarded; why should it now?" "Because prior to my imprisonment ... this ship was my post and that was my bunk.", Larin responds back with a very vicious sort of clarity. "Larin Weyr. I was working with Mister Ryan to be in charge of one of his combat squads. But then I got picked up by some ... old acquaintances. I haven't had contact with Jeff or Doctor Frey or any others. I haven't even had word with a certain lady I hold very dear. Soooo how about you get on the horn with Ryan or whoever is the captain now ... drop my name by them and get me out of this chair." "I can't," Ruin answers simply. "And it must have been a while since you were here, since I cobbled that bunk together myself out of some of the seats." He shakes his head. "I don't have any authority, myself. And the captain's stepped out. I'll let him know you're awake, but..." he shrugs. "As I said. I have no authority." Ruin is seated on his bunk, turning Larin's pistol over and over in his hands while he converses with Larin, who's handcuffed, tied to a chair, and definitely the worse for wear. Well, not all that worse for the wear. He looked pretty shitty when he came in. The lump on his head is just an addition to his fairly extensive list of wear and tear. "Ryan must have been doing some recruiting. Especially someone to put in charge of the Haste, ay?". He smirks in spite of his situation and shakes his head a bit. Solace enters through the door just as that last bit is said, from the direction of engineering. She's missing her usual prosthetic arm, and seems to have been attempting to work with one hand. "You could say that. What's going on, Pia?" She inquires of Ruin, heading over to the fridge. The Timmiegirl doesn't seem to be overly concerned. Brandon makes his way into the main cabin once more, this time with several bottles of water. He slings them down on a spare chair, and makes his way over to Larin. "Good... You're awake. What is your relationship with Jeff Ryan? What is your name, and what is your business on board?" he asks, cold and straight down the line. Solace doesn't even get a hello, same as Ruin. Ruin shrugs, stretching out on his bunk, Larin's pistol now being absently studied. "I took a walk after my nap," he tells Solace. "Came back to find this guy here. He," and he gestures idly at Brandon with the non-business-end of the pistol, "took him out. And now it's just fact-finding." He purses his lips. "After yesterday, you may be sure I didn't leave the door unlocked." "Jeff Ryan is my boss ... I should dare say even my friend in spite of his usual tendency to call me Mister Weyr. I worked as a bodyguard for awhile and was working as heading up one of his combat units.", Larin responds back with much the tone of someone giving their name, rank and serial number. "The Haste is ... was my assignment. Different looking ship now actually. My reason for being absent involves a period of detainment by certain business associates. I couldn't get in contact with Mister Ryan so I figured I'd find the Haste instead." Solace snags a bottle of water and closes the fridge with a hip. She makes her way slowly across to one of the chairs, taking her time like someone with an injury. Plopping down with a small wince, she clenches the bottle between her knees and uncaps it. "Why didn't anyone change the security codes?" She asks with a hint of exasperation, then shakes her head. "Mister Weyr," Brandon says, glaring at the man. "I requested a full name, didn't I? You could be King Richard for all I know. You come onto the Haste, waving a weapon around and you claim to be Jeff's Bodyguard." He then looks across to Solace, and shakes his head. "Jeff hasn't given me full access to that section of the computer." He then glances towards Ruin, and arches a brow. "Did you check his stuff for a tech scanner?" Ruin rolls off his bunk, going to a little pile near Larin's bag. He gathers it up and hands it to Brandon. "No techscanner," he says. "A PDA, and ID." He hands over Larin's pistol while he's at it. "I did give my word." "Larin Weyr. Originally of the Sparta PD. Originally of the militia there. Security contractor and consultant.", Larin responds back, not getting hot under the collar. "As for waving a weapon around ... I was just checking the saftey was on before I stowed it." He smirks at the ID. "I bet if you check my ID back under Larin Weyr, the Sivadians will have some nasty things to say about me. Charges dropped however!" Solace idly sips her water, apparently fairly relaxed about all this. Since Ruin's busy searching the man's things, and her husband is concerned with questioning, the Timmie keeps herself busy making faces at Larin while no one else is looking. Someone's feeling mature. McDowell takes the ID and other equipment from Ruin, before holding it up and studying it. "And you did good," he replies to Ruin, before holding up the ID for Solace to see. "That look fake to you?" He then looks back to the detained Watcher and arches a brow. "Or we could ask around a few associates and see what the word on the street is about you." He cants the pistol to one side, before removing the powercell and setting it down next to Larin. "Larin Weyr... Was screwing a member of the AES a while back... Raisa Armadildo or something." His attention then goes to the PDA, switching it on and studying it. "What's the password, Mister Weyr?" Ruin shrugs and goes back to his bunk, stretching out on it with the clear attitude that whatever's going on has ceased to be his problem. "Fuck the fleet," Larin remarks back with a smirk. "One word of course." He turns a bit red at the mention of Raisa and just shakes his head. "Jack still flying her? I remember this one time when he nearly had to shoot me after I beat the snot out of one of his crew members. I felt bad for it because the guy wasn't all that bad of a guy once I talked to him. Malion certainly wasn't your stereotypical martian." He bites his lip for a moment. "There's some pretty uh ... exposing PDA messages in there of the uh ... personal nature. Just uh ... fair warning." He shoots a look back towards Solace. He doesn't have to try too hard to make a funny face. It's already pretty funny looking with all the bruises. "Is mine?" Solace retorts to Brandon, then shrugs. "It's not a bad fake, if that's what you're asking." She doesn't even really look it over closely, turning back to Larin, this time without the faces. "Jack's not...not quite sure what's up with him lately, he seems t'be...wandering. He's been talkin' about joinin' my mom on th'Jackal." "Do him good to get away from the AES," Brandon replies, as he starts searches through the messages after using the password. "Same encryption that Jeff uses," the man mutters to himself. He then uncuffs Larin's wrist, letting him undo his own situation. "I'm Brandon Starchaser-McDowell," he then motions towards Solace. "My wife, Solace Starchaser and finally," he motions with his hand towards Ruin. "Ruin Pia... Don't ask me what he does, I'm not too sure. I think he's a professional ferretmonkey trainer." "You've got it backwards," Ruin replies without opening his eyes. "I'm the ship's ferretmonkey-in-training." Larin stands up from his chair after he gets himself free and rubs at his wrists slightly. "I uh ... you'll forgive me if I'm not entirely pleased to meet you in this fashion. Maybe we can do introductions again tomorrow that don't involve anything quite so ... kinky." He shrugs slightly. "I'm not surprised Ryan didn't inform you guys. Heck I'd have written me off as dead and it was pretty close as you can tell by my condition. But ... they got worse." There's a predatorial smile there. One that each and everyone else in the room gets with a nod. Solace doesn't return the smile, just stares curiously. Of course, Blackjack takes this opportunity to wander in, the door to the corridor sliding open. She's taking full advantage of those new sensors, it seems. The black and white kitten gazes imperiously around the room, then goes to the kitchen to eat her dinner. "Brandon, when are we going to Odari?" The Timmiegirl finally asks, glancing up from her feline contemplation. "You enjoyed it, Larin," Brandon says, as he places the ID and PDA down on the chair and then makes his way across to Solace. He pays no attention to the preditory smile or anything else. "We're there," he replies to the Timmiegirl, as he flicks Ruin the bird. "Ferretmonkeys don't have a Zangali fetish, Ruin." He chuckles faintly, and then shakes his head. "As usual, you get my motives and preferences almost absurdly wrong," Ruin notes mildly. He perks up at the sound of the kitten, and gets up to go pet it. "Odari is an interesting place, though." Larin continues rubbing at his wrists slightly and reaches over to check his stuff. "Sooo ... what's the plan then?", Larin asks allowed. He fixes the little side conversation with an odd smirk. "I'm going to get drunk." Solace decides suddenly, finishing off her bottle of water, rising to her feet with a pained grunt. "My side hurts, I'm down an arm until Kal sends me my new one, and I'm on a planet full of bugs. I want lots of alcohol, some raete, and something to eat." "The plan?" Brandon says, as he pauses near his wife, and looks back to Larin. "At the moment we're out on patrol... She's going to get drunk and on a planet full of bugs. You still want to move that stuff?" He asks, before his eyes flick across to Ruin. "Most likely going to get you some more training later on... Larin's security now, and I'm betting that he doesn't know how to cook." "There's a tavern not far from here," Ruin notes, "though it smelled of candy to me - sugar. If you want my help moving things, I'll help. Otherwise I'll stay here and handle the cooking. Your call." Larin gets all his stuff back into his duffel and, assuming he's able to, reholsters his pistol back into the convinent part of his FLAK jacket. He nods briskly, barely appearing to pay attention as he makes his way towards the kitchen. Can he cook? He uses his fist to knock on the outside of the cabinets until he hears a slightly hollow thud. With a grin on his face he removes part of the section and pulls out a very nice bottle of Sivadian scotch which he places on the counter. He also replaces the piece of the wall. "I've really missed this stuff. Been sucking down fucking fru fru pink drinks for awhile now." His face turns sour at the mention. "It could be worse," Solace points out easily, "You could be on Castor." As for the question about the moving of stuff, she shrugs at Brandon. "Tomorrow, yeah? I just saw Kal earlier to drop off his stuff, not in th'mood for more customs at th'moment. You know I don't like goin' out without my arm. Where's my vodka?" "I was talking about Timonese food," Brandon mutters, before giving a sigh. His brown eyes flick across to Larin, and then Ruin "If you two want to hit the piss, if Sol wants some company, I'll go with her and meet up with you guys later. Or we'll head back to New Luna and report in." He then looks back to Solace, and slowly nods. "Bottom shelf," he replies to the Timmiegirl and then opens the fridge, before kneeling down. "Or if you guys wanna hit the piss on board, the wet bar's open." "For the purposes of this discussion, I don't drink," says Ruin, his attention on the kitten. "Do what you like; if you need me, just tell me." He's found a spot near the base of the kitten's tail that gets the little cat to purr while it eats. "More for us," Larin responds with a smirk, as he pops the lid with a satifsfying smirk. He rubs at the back of his head. "Besides I need to nurse my 'welcome aboard' present." He locates a glass, and pours himself a liberal dosage. He lifts his glass. "To the Haste, ay? And to wherever in the cold void she takes us?", Larin toasts. Solace goes and retrieves her bottle of vodka, then heads for the door that leads to engineering. "No one bother me," She says shortly before heading through the door, disappearing. "I'm going to see if there any light cargo," Brandon says, as he wanders off towards the fore hatch. "See if we can get you boys a nice silky dress or something? Make sure that Solace don't blow up the ship either." Category:Classic Watcher Logs